Dusk & Summer
by singsongsung
Summary: Lucas Scott. Serena van der Woodsen. New York City. Summer school. Lust. Maybe love. "He can’t help but stare at her because she’s like a poem begging to be written."
1. Prologue

**A/N: **What am I think with this? I honestly don't know. I don't even have the whole plot mapped out yet. But I can't _not_ publish this. I'm obsessed with this pairing, I'm itching to try a little bit of a different writing style, and it's no good just sitting on my computer. Rated T for the moment, but that may change. Enjoy. Feedback is always appreciated. ;)

**Prologue  
**

She's lying next to him in shorts with dancing penguins printed all over them, white fabric with black print, and she's got the bluest eyes he's ever seen, like the ocean on a cloudy day when it's a dark, endless abyss, deep navy blue, and she has never-ending wavy blonde hair that falls onto her shoulders and back like a waterfall (to match her sea-blue eyes). He can't help but stare at her because she's like a poem begging to be written, similes dancing in those mysterious-yet-revealing eyes, rhythm in her hips as she walks, her whole body some kind of mythical allegory, with metonymy hidden behind her knees.

She wilts forward, her fingers slipping out of _On the Road_, her page left unmarked. Her cheek presses into the pillow and her eyelids close halfway, lashes fluttering. "Have you ever been in love?" she asks lazily.

If they weren't the people that they are and this wasn't the moment that it is, they would be so predictable, such a teenage cliché. But there are and it is so he just says, "Yeah."

Propping herself up on her elbows, she kicks her feet into the air like a little kid and studies him thoughtfully. "How do you know?"

He abandons _Death of a Salesman_ and sits up, also resting his weight on his elbows. She's lying on her stomach and she's lying on his back so that when they both sit up a bit it's like meeting in the middle.

"I don't know…how to explain it. You know when you know."

She's got freckles on her cheeks, splattered there by the sun. He thinks that they'll tell him her secrets: he's being searching for the pattern, the words hidden away, since the first day he met her. His breath catches somewhere in his throat when he thinks he's finally found it, but then she scrunches up her nose and it's gone.

"I think that's bullshit," she tells him bluntly.

Chuckling deep down in his throat, he raises his eyebrows. "Oh, you do, do you?"

She nods assertively. "I think you know when it becomes automatic. When I first knew I loved…"

He jerks his chin forward slightly, urging her to go on. She doesn't have to say his name. The conversation topic of her past lovers will always produce a fiery feeling that sparks in his chest and spreads through his body mercilessly. He hates to think that any of them were truly _loves_.

"I knew when we were on the phone one day, me and him, and he had to go. He said goodbye and I said _I love you_. I said it like it was so natural, like I'd been saying it at the end of every conversation we'd ever had." She sighs and drums her fingers lightly against her cheek. "Do you understand that?"

He pushes her hair out of her face, winding a couple locks around two of his fingers. It feels like he's claiming her. He could say _sure I did, way back when, once upon a long time ago_, but he doesn't like to lie to her. She is like the most intricately woven story ever told, and the last thing he wants to do is screw with the plotlines. "Right now. I understand it right now."

Navy blue grows lighter, cerulean, sapphire, sparkling shades. She toys with the edge of the pillowcase and exhales, but she doesn't look away from him, not like he expected her to. "I think you're brave," she says.

It's electric, her orbs and his, contrasting, ever-changing shades of blue. She enthralls him with all the colours she exudes. She's wearing the most basic hues, black penguins on white shorts and a lacy black bra, but she's peachy skin and golden hair and blue eyes, fiery red personality, pink and purple moods, orange-green-gray words. He releases her hair and lets it unwind, slowly tumbling down.

He speaks quietly, husky-soft. "I think you're beautiful," he tells her as a reply, and he could write a sonnet about everything he sees in the sweet seduction of her smile.


	2. Before

**A/N: **Thanks for reading/reviewing! I'm not sure about the exact timeframe of this, but I'd set it around the time of pre-season one of GG, and just after season one of OTH. Hopefully that makes things fairly clear.

_- Before -_

She's going to cry. She's going to cry and it's killing him.

"It's only for the summer," he sighs, giving her a pleading look. "I just need a change."

She blinks back her tears and smiles bravely, gently and reassuringly, at him. "I know you do. But, you know…I've never been away from you for two months. Maybe it's time we took a bit of a break from each other, huh?" she asks in her soft-spoken way of teasing.

"Maybe," he shrugs with a smile before he wraps his arms around her. He's not sure when he became so big, so tall compared to her, but it makes him feel protective and he doesn't feel worthy of that responsibility, not with the way things have been lately. "I'll miss you, Mom," he tells her.

Holding on tightly, she says, "I'll miss you, too, my boy." As they pull apart she wipes her eyes. "Call me the moment you get there," she tells him firmly. "And have a _good_ summer, Lucas, okay? Have some fun – safe fun. No more tattoos. No car crashes."

He laughs as he hears his train's departure call being announced. "I love you. I'll be careful, I promise."

"I love you, too. This is the right thing for you, Lucas."

He nods agreeably, glancing over at his shoulder, toward all the trains and the travellers with their tickets and wheelie bags, their destinations waiting for them. "I think so, too."

-x-

"You know, you're taking this _remarkably_ well. You're in a really good mood."

She shoots her little brother a smile as she shrugs and picks up a bag. "I'm shopping, E.," she teases him. "Of course I'm in a good mood."

Erik rolls his eyes, deep blue ones that match her own. "I mean in general, about this whole summer school thing."

"Well…" she taps her fingers against the cover of a pink-striped notebook. "It's kinda my fault, right? I went to boarding school and I slacked off and I can't catch up at Constance Billard. I want to go to college somewhere good and _interesting_ and just get away from all of this, you know?"

He understands, as he always has, the undertone of her words, all that has gone unspoken. "You and Blair are still on the rocks, huh?"

"Yeah, rocks. Like, the jagged ones. At the bottom of a really tall cliff." She sighs and holds up the notebook so he can look it over. "Are the stripes too much?"

His eyebrows fly up. "Since when do you have limits?"

"A _very_ good point, baby bro," she returns, winking at him as she grabs a few of them, tossing the notebooks into the basket she's carrying in the crook of her elbow. "What else do I need? Pens…"

Erik trails after her, the look on his face a combination of amusement and patience. "You're avoiding the topic."

She whirls around to face him, making a helpless face as she shrugs. "There _is_ no topic. Blair has made it pretty clear that our friendship is over. And if my friendship with Blair is over, then my friendships with pretty much everyone I've known since before I can even remember…are over. So I'm just going to leave it alone, do this whole school thing, maybe get some _relatively_ good marks, and disappear from here."

He frowns. "That just doesn't seem like you."

Serena rolls her eyes; she adores Erik, but he has this penchant for being right all the time that tends to get to her. "Oh, please, then tell me who I am."

"You're the first person who was _ever_ on Gossip Girl. You're the girl all the other girls want to be. You _ruled_ that school. Now you're going to just step back until you can get away?"

She sighs, turning away from him as she carries on walking down the aisle. "I don't know what else to do," she admits in a strangely small voice, grabbing a package of pens. "I know that I don't want that. I don't…I don't know, exactly, what I want to do."

Erik catches up to her and touches her arm gently. "You can do whatever you want," he reminds her gently. "Have you…have you thought about maybe calling Nate?"

His name alone hits her hard, a dagger to her heart, a wave of guilt. "I can't call Nate. I mean, I can't…I can't _want_ to call Nate." She sighs and drags her fingers through her perfect blonde hair. "I need to figure myself out first. And then maybe I can find the right boy." She stops short and faces her little brother, scowling. "Why are you looking at me like that? Isn't that what people are _supposed_ to do? Define themselves instead of letting someone else define them? Wouldn't your therapist tell me I'm making progress right now?"

"Sure," he chuckles lightly, "But Serena…you don't have to do it all by yourself."

She shakes her head, snatching up a math set up and dropping it in her basket. Ignoring his advice, she says, "Come on, let's get out of here. Mom will freak out if we're not home soon."

He tries to tease her: "Right, she has issues letting her once-wild daughter look after her suicidal son."

"That's not funny," Serena mutters, shooting him a look, "And anyway…it's her fault we turned out this way."

-x-

Lucas writes on the train, the words in his notebook spilling over the little blue lines, his pen following the bumpy movement of the tracks beneath him. Frustrated, he tears a page from the little book, crumpling it in his fist and groaning in frustration.

Lately, he can't write a single sentence that he likes, and he can admit that it's because he's gotten a little lost in the past year. It would appear to the outside world that he'd been found – he's playing great basketball and dating gorgeous girls, but in the process of it all, he forgot who he originally was. He stopped reading and writing and spending time with his mom, Haley ceased to be the most important person in his world, basketball became more than a game, and he ruined one friendship and broke two hearts.

That wasn't the person he wanted to be, so he'd chosen to exile himself for the summer, and in doing so also improve his marks, which had dropped over the past year. Summer school in New York City provided the opportunity for both, along with the chance to see a city he'd only ever read about.

He shoves the crumpled paper at to the bottom of his bag – he's never been one to litter – and stares at the clean, blank page in front of him before flipping his notebook closed optimistically. This was a summer for new beginnings. He'd go to school, see the sights, make some friends, and then return home rejuvenated and feeling like himself.

In that moment, he truly believes it will be that simple.

-x-

Serena wanders out of the apartment while Lily's still ranting at her. She feels bad for abandoning her little brother at the hands of her mother, who's suddenly decided to make up for years and years of not parenting, but she can't be there right now.

She feels lost in her life. She's probably been lost for a very long time, but she's only realizing it now as she tries to reform and do away with all her old coping methods. She misses that way of life to a certain degree, but on another level, she misses the people who came with it. She misses Nate wrapping her up in his arms and carrying her home, she misses saving Blair and having Blair save her, she even misses Chuck Bass whispering lewdly in her ear. She misses them, the people who were always her family. All she has left is Erik, and _thank God_ she still has Erik, but he's not her best friends.

Walking in her soft brown boots that she's always loved, her feet lead her to Grand Central Station, the place she always runs from and always comes back to, as if she'll find a train there that will show her the way to herself. On the upper floor, she comes to a halt and sighs as she braces her arms against the rail, gazing down at the crowds, all those purposeful people. She's a little cold in the flimsy white shirt she's wearing over her jean shorts, but she can't really bring herself to care; she's Serena van der Woodsen, she's accustomed to looking and feeling good without putting any real effort into either. But right now she doesn't feel that good at all, she feels like the only person in the entire building who is without goals, without a destination in mind.

-x-

He steps off the train tiredly, but with a spring in his step as he grabs his bag. The energy of New York alone is exhilarating; he's overwhelmed in the best possible way. He's not even sure exactly where he needs to go and he's in a space with way more people than he's accustomed to seeing.

Even through the crowds, so many faces, most of which he'll probably never seen again, he finds himself picking out just one, that of a girl standing on the upper level of the station, staring contemplatively down at a spot close to him. She's mesmerizing, with more shiny blonde hair than a person should have, something both strong and delicate about her body in a flimsy shirt and shorts that reveal incredible legs – legs have always been his weakness. There is something very regal and untouchable about her, but he feels a startling shock of familiarity when her eyes meet his, like maybe what's going on in her head is similar to what's going on in his, and she smiles at him as though she just might get it.

-x-

Down below, a boy getting off a train catches her attention and makes her lips curl into a reluctant smile. He looks a little overwhelmed by the city, there is an earnest quality to his body language that appeals to the deepest part of her heart, and he's good-looking, which appeals to her shallower side. He looks about her age, maybe a year older, but nothing she can't handle. Blinking hard, she tells herself not to think that way, but she can't help it. He looks up at her, their gazes colliding and sending off sparks, and her smile softens a bit at the way he's admiring her.

She could corrupt that boy.

Or maybe he could reform her.

Either way, it doesn't matter. He shoots her this brief, shy smile that makes her heart palpitate, and then he, like everyone else, heads off for his destination. They'll probably never see each other again, but something tells her she's never going to forget the look in those blue eyes, eyes that seemed a little bit lost.


End file.
